Countdown
by wyoluvr
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the road to the end of childhood. Three connected ficlets.


Title: Countdown  
Author: Criss Moody wyoluvr@yahoo.com  
Date: September 5, 2002  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's the lucky soul who owns them.  
Distribution: My site, ficbitch.com/hpf. Otherwise, ask.  
Rating: PG-13.  
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the road to the end of childhood. Three connected ficlets.  
Feedback: I love it, yes please.   
Notes: Kassie betaed and nagged a bit. 

Harry - Night, After 

Wildly, Harry wonders if his father did this. With his friends. Huddled in a bed for warmth and maybe a bit more. Sure, boys, but boys will be boys, and English boarding schools will be English boarding schools. He sometimes looks at Sirius out of the corner of his eye, and he wonders. 

Four boys, Dad, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, smashed into one remarkably small double bed, legs and arms and things bumping and crossing. Breathe moistening air under covers. Apologies and manly squeaks. Sorry, so sorry, yes, that was my foot on your penis. 

Harry himself knows how small these beds are. And he knows how hard it is to not touch people with whom he shares a bed. Even if those people are female and probably rolling her eyes at him this very moment.

"Whatsa matter?" Ron's words pulse into his neck, sending shivers down Harry's back, which in turn causes Hermione to shift and open her eyes.

"Harry, can't you stay still? I'm really very tired and I've an awful lot of work to do tomorrow besides slipping out of here before dawn."

Well, yes, of course, wouldn't do for poor Connor Scars, sixth year Prefect, to find a scantily clad Hermione, if you call yards of cotton and lace scanty, crawling through the Gryffindor boys' dorm. He'd scream bloody murder and bring Peeves, or worse, Filch. Not to mention public embarssment and goodness knows how many points from Gryffindor. She'd be lucky to stay in school.

The scratch of Hermione's tangle of hair pulls at his neck. Her hands, tiny really, rub down his hands, pulling them tighter around her body.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just sleep. We all need it."

Harry closes his eyes, his face resting in Hermione's hair. Ron snuffles into his back, wet smacks that nearly resemble kisses. They are seventeen, all three, and Harry's sure that most kids their age don't cuddle in bed with their best friends, wizards or not. Or lay awake late at night wondering how nightmares he doesn't remember could be so bad that Ron dares detention to bring Hermione over from the girl's wing.

It's nearly a ritual now. Harry comes close to breaking his jaw and back in half, clenching, arching, and repeating until Ron's in a panic. Hermione's firm hands ghosting over his face, touching his eyelids, lips, jaw, soothing him out of his nightmare. Harry wakes to find his best friends curled around him, always impatient to just get some sleep before the next day of classes.

He can imagine the conversation between Ron and Hermione the first time. She'd have had to convince him to get into the bed. Being logical and convincing like Hermione always was. And when that failed, glaring her opponent into submission.

//"You want me to what?? Are you insane?"

"It's the only way. He needs to feel people who care around him, touching and surrounding him. Surely you've had nightmares, Ron. Didn't your mother ever sit up with you? Hold you?"

"Well, yes, but that's my mum and this is…don't give me that look. Fine, this time. Next time, we figure something else out."//

Nothing was ever figured out and on average Harry woke up a few nights a month with Ron's leg between his own, Hermione's hands stroking his collarbone. Daytime, they didn't talk about it. Much. Ron'd stumbled through a description of what Harry looked like mid-nightmare. Harry tried to say thank you, but it was awkward and of course Ron didn't need to hear it. Or didn't want to. Hermione might have but after Ron's blushes and stutters Harry didn't feel like it.

Harry lets his fingers curl into Hermione's. Amazing, that he did feel better here. They'd kill for him. They already had. He wasn't going to blink and find this gone. He wishes he could lay in bed and just talk with them. Ask Ron what he thinks about Ireland's new beater, Sean O'Malley, and bother Hermione for entrance into the prefect's bathroom. Girl's of course, Harry was an adolescent boy. Didn't see much promise in the boys, 'cept for Ron.

Another thing to wonder. It isn't like Harry's mad about boys. Not hardly. Still, early mornings, Harry feels a nudge at his backside and wonders. 

Ron - Degrees 

Ron saw a Muggle news show once. Dratted boring, pictures always the same. Something about men, and sex, and somethin' called 'homo-sex-u-als'. He's asked 'Mione what it meant, but she blushed and told him to ask his Mother. Mum blushed and ordered him to clean up his room before they left for the train station. 

Women.

That's years ago now, though. These days, he supposes that the news show had something to do with sex between men. He feels immensely proud of himself for coming to that conclusion. Not a bit of help from anyone. 

Isn't all that hard to get. For Muggles, if two blokes should be found sharing any sort of sexual anything, they'd be run out of town. It's against the Muggle God and something called 'common decency'. 

Right then. Ron isn't giving up Harry. Or Hermione. But both went without saying to such a degree it made Ron's head hurt to realize. Stupid, how a person could say that friendship was wrong. All it was, really. Base emotion, you know. Friendship. Strongest thing.

Ron thinks that's why his parents have such a tangible thing between them. Any idiot could see the love. Passion dulled, but not erased, by years and children. A relationship that started with friendship and ends with the same. 

So what's the dratted big deal when it's two guys and a girl? Maybe it wasn't such a common thing in the Muggle world. Yeah, isn't precisely an everyday happening amongst Wizards. There'd been those two Wizards over in Dorset. And the witch in Surrey who took two 'life-partners'. 

He supposes Mum freaked when he mentioned hom-o-sex-u-als 'cause it was a Muggle word with Muggle prejudices attached. She's certainly never disapproved of Ron, Harry, and Hermione's friendship. Aside from when she thought Hermione'd broken Harry's heart. Funny. She's woken them up and never blinked an eye for seeing them in the same bed. Picked Hermione's clothes off Harry's floor enough times to set most parents into a bit of a worry.

"What is this stupid programme?" Hermione leans over the couch and braces her arms on its back.

"Dunno. 's all about people called gays and lesbians. Pretty wild outfits. See that one there? He's trying to be a woman. Some kind of parade. I tell you, Muggles could do with a few well-placed Transfiguration spells." 

He nods emphatically, hiding his grin at Hermione's dropped mouth.

"Ron, do you even know what 'gay' means?"

"Besides happy? 'course I do, 'm not a moron. It's a man who loves a man." He shakes his head. "Those Muggles get so bloody serious about everything. I've got worse things to worry about, ya know."

There, the classic Hermione Granger eyebrow, raising up straight and true. "Such as? How to skip out on Potions without incurring Snape's wrath?"

Skip out on one little Potions class to make out with a girl, Parvati Patil if he remembers right, and it stains a guy's reputation forever. 

"All I mean is it's not so serious." He uses the Muggle remote to turn the box, sorry, the television off. "Dontcha think we should go find Harry? Your parents have probably terrified him enough for one visit."

That gets a scowl out of Hermione. Warms Ron to see the scowl, it really does.

"My parents aren't terrifying. They're sensible."

"'Mione, they still ask Harry if he's considered surgery to fix his scar."

Hermione sighs and picks up her school bag. "Yes, I know. It's just that, well, they're Muggles. I think they like Harry."

Yeah, that makes it all ok. Not like any of them saw Mr. and Mrs. Granger much. They only stopped by before the beginning of the school year to pick up Hermione. Seemed only polite to take Mrs. Granger up on the offer of tea that turned into a discussion of magical ethics in the Muggle world. Drove Ron right off to sleep in front of the box/television. 

A familiar scruffy dark head pops through the doorway. "Are you two ready?"

Ron picks his own bag up. They'd get all their school stuff once they met up with his family at Diagon Alley. He had to drop Pigwidgeon off at the Owl Care Shoppe. Silly owl had a sore on his foot from trying to match Hedwig's air acrobatics over the summer.

"Relax, Harry, we've got loads of time." Ron swings his arms around Hermione and Harry. "I think we need something to fortify us once we get to the Alley. Before my Mum gets all weepy over us, her sweet last years."

Hermione snorts her disbelief. "She's going to give you bloody murder for haring off to Romania to visit Bill and you know it."

"True. More reason to eat first. No reason to die on an empty stomach."

They amble off towards the home of one Cyrus Semoni, an ancient wizard who lets Hermione use his connection to the Floo Network in exchange for whatever odd Muggle device she could spare. He and Arthur Weasley are great friends. Last spring, she gave him the thingie she'd worn on her teeth after those metal contraptions came off.

Harry halts abruptly at the entrance to Cyrus' cottage. He turns to his friends and Ron starts at how dark Harry's eyes look. Damn near black, they seem to swallow his sockets.

"You realize this is it? Our last year?"

Ron slings an arm around Harry and raises his fist to knock at the front door.

"Sure. Let's get on with it. Back to the real world with us."

Hermione - Tracking Time 

Hermione knows exactly where she is, should be, and would be every second of every day. Magical implements aside, she finds it useful to keep track. This is the time for class. That is for homework. And the rest is for Harry and Ron and protection.

She hates to be a mother to them. Or if that is in her head, then sexless friend who is nominally female. All the changes in her body over the years and Ron only mustered up a "what're those? bumps or breasts?"

It is terrible to feel out of place. Worse to feel out of time. She'd never use the Time Turner again. She'd been torn and stretched like taffy from points in time. Sometimes she'd thought that if she looked far enough she'd see the future. Learn how to defeat You Know Who before the final battle and triumphantly save the day. Rather like Joan of Arc. Though hopefully without dying tragically.

Hermione isn't fond of dying tragically. Frankly, they've had enough of that. Harry's parents. Friends fallen in periodic attempts on Harry's life. But not his closest friends. Harry would curl up and die without them. She's sure she's not over exaggerating. Alright, perhaps a bit. 

Ron, Hermione, and Harry. The Boy Who Lived depends upon three things. Ron. Best friend, male. Hermione. Best friend, female. The world's not really such a bad place. The good wizards will always win the day.

If Hermione were more cruel, and loved Harry less, she'd call him a fool and run like hell.

She does, however, love him. And she realizes she may die for that love. He's ground zero, so to speak, and intelligence can't always keep you alive. Such a common human emotion, easily scoffed at until Hermione realized she was the one suffering. Then in a flash, she knew she'd kill anything that hurt Harry. Or Ron. Not interchangable at all, but the love's the same. In a normal world, she'd never be able to pick one. Settle down and raise little wizards.

Hermione Granger is not a Molly Weasley. She respects Molly, loves her even. But that's not her life or her ambition. She's a bloody good witch. She will go far. She'll only stunt her rise in keeping by Ron and Harry. And she knows it.

Yes, love. As sensible as Divination, but a million times more palatable. 

"Hermione, are you sure you don't want to come up? It's splendid up there, it really is!" Ron's face glows. Harry's been whipping him around the field while Hermione lies out on the field with her books. The early fall day nearly begs for frolic. Leaves are turning, but a strong sun has kept any chill away. This is their last year at Hogwarts. They all have a lot of work to do in order to graduate. And live.

"No. I'm almost done with the spell book for Seventh Years. Quite complex really. There's this one spell, oh, you wouldn't believe what it requires…." Hermione's face grows warm with passion, but her words die as Ron rolls his eyes and flops onto his back, next her on the blanket.

"'m sure it's fascinating, Hermione. But come on, we've got this one day where we're not really needed anywhere, no classes, no nothing but a bloody beautiful day." 

Harry alights near them, carefully placing his broom into its carrying case. With a casual flick, he closes Hermione's book as he lays down on next to Ron. She growls a bit at them. Looks at their unrepentant faces. Once, they'd have been terrified she'd curse them or worse, refuse to help them with their homework. But clearly she'd done a poor job of instilling terror in them because they looked about as worried as Ludo Bagman must when Percy insists they need new quills.

"Have either of you any shame? Or sense of a work ethic?"

They cast glances at each other and speak in unison. "No."

Hermione pushes her book back into her bag, ignoring the boys when they do a little hand gesture they'd perfected years ago. It translated to something like "ha, ha, got 'mione to goof off. We're excellent chaps, aren't we?" She curls onto her side, her knees brushing Ron's arm. From where her head lays cushioned by bookbag and blanket, she sees Ron's elbow laying on Harry's. A very manly way of touching but not touching. 

"Oh, look, it's a unicorn!" Hermione's finger flies up to point at the sky. After a brief look around for fatherly ghosts, Harry and Ron realize that she means a unicorn shaped cloud.

"Looks like a horse to me."

"Ron, if you'd looked when I pointed, you'd've seen the unicorn."

"If you say so."

"I see three rings, there." Harry points directly above them and sure enough, three rings. Hermione twists to lay on her back, following the movement of the three rings across the sky. She notes the location of the sun and sighs.

"It's nearly time for dinner."

"Yeah, yeah, just a few more minutes."

A few more won't matter too much.


End file.
